The End of the War
by Tridentwatch
Summary: Harry finds that the end is just the beginning. Will he sink into evil in his quest to defeat Voldemort? Or will he find inner peace in the lair of the dragon kind?


The End of the War

Harry rose from the depths of his slumber and looked around Hagrid's hut, squinting in the darkness. It was early morning, and he hated this time the worst of all. As he rose, he wandlessly summoned his wand from the top of the chair it was sitting on, and walked out in his sleep worn robes. Robes that were streaked with blood, not his, but the blood of the enemies.

The war raged on outside, like some sort of blood bath. Except both sides took losses. Harry could see from the distance the burning forest, and he could smell the scent of it on his nostrils. He heard sounds of spells being cast, shouted out in desperation, and he could hear the clang of metal on metal as the suits of armour clashed against Voldemort's creatures of darkness, trolls, giants, and vicious monsters.

It was time he decided, to end the battle once and for all. He had a good night's sleep, the first one in many days, and standing on the outskirts of the hidden hut, he could see in the distance Hogwart's spires and castle towers standing tall and aloof amidst the warfare on the ground.

Where was Voldemort, he wondered slowly to himself as he gazed at his holly wand with a sense of loss and remorse. It had a crack in the middle, a long gash that made it less than it had been before, somehow fragmented in power, and lacking in finesse.

He needed another wand, he could not use this one. It was too badly damaged for a fight with Voldemort. He needed to find a powerful wand, a wand that he could use with all the grace, all the knowledge and abilities he had worked hard to learn. Dumbledore's wand would do the trick, but it was hidden in his office.

And Hogwarts was filled with inferi roaming the corridors. Harry swallowed, his mouth dry from tinges of anxiety flooding into him. He did not like inferi, it reminded him of that fateful sixth year in Hogwarts when the old man accompanied him on the horcrux journey, where he had passed away in the boat. Harry had escaped, barely, but it had scarred him, mutiliated his fragile psyche and launching him into a descent, a vast fall where he spent the majority of his time isolated from his peers, learning all the dark spells he could find.

The work had paid off. He was a giant on the battlefield, a monster almost as deadly as Voldemort, killing left and right with the darkest of spells used without remorse, without any restraint whatsoever. At first Voldemort had been filled with hideous joy, laughing away at the hero's downfall, but seeing the one mindedness of his foe, he had slowly become wary, cautious. Harry was a raging animal with no sense of caution, no sense of cunning and sharpness. There was a wildness in him that made men like Voldemort almost fearful, because Harry was not afraid to die. Like a cornered animal, when Harry dueled, he gave it his all no matter the cost.

Harry started jogging toward Hogwarts, and in the gloomy twilight of the early morning he came across a centuar laying on the ground, bleeding from a long cut across his stomach. Harry paused, and said, "Friend or foe?"

"Harry," groaned the centaur, "I am a friend! Please, help me up."

Harry nodded and raised his holly wand, muttering a healing charm, "Augmelius." A blue light flashed across the centuar's stomach, sewing together the wound. The centuar rose with a grunt of effort and lifted up his battle axe. "Where shall we go, Chosen One?"

Harry inclined his head toward Hogwarts, "In there, I need something."

"As you wish, I shall follow your command," said the centaur, "I am tired, and will not be much use to you in battle but I shall give you all I have at my disposal."

Harry nodded, and the two started their trek on bumpy grassland toward the castle, meeting only dead carcasses and mosquitioes hovering in the air on their way. The battle was raging on somewhere far, on the quidditch field perhaps or back in the forest. It was a long battle, and had lasted at least ten days with neither side giving an inch. The ministry's two hundred aurors had come to the rescue, bringing over a thousand of their auror friends from international borders with them. Volunteers, all of them, and not hardened by the bloodshed they had faced on Hogwarts. But due to their help, Hogwarts had survived the waves of attacks led by Voldemort, survived and thrived because Harry refused to give up. At every chance he had he faced Voldemort, and it always ended the same way, in a tie that made both of them turn back, leaving only stillness where there had been chaos.

The centuar followed, his hooves rocking on the ground easily keeping pace with Harry despite his wounds. Harry rose his wand as they neared the castle gates, and said the password, "Excaliber," in a low voice so the centuar wouldn't hear him. The password was a secret, because to open the gates meant to give Voldemort access to the central keystones that held up the wards. Harry couldn't take the chance to let Voldemort in. His death eaters were a different matter, because it needed a powerful wizard to take down the foundation stones laid by the four founders. Harry knew only Voldemort could do it, therefore he tried his best to keep Voldemort out. His D.A were all stationed at the entrances, keeping the dark forces at way. The inferi had gotten through to Hogwarts through the chamber of secrets but Harry had shut it down in a desperate venture.

Now he had to go back in the castle again, and that thought brought tingles of fear in his stomach. He pushed it aside and as the gates opened, he led the way for the centuar in, and closed the gates behind him.

Harry crouched down and motioned the centuar to do the same. There were inferi all around them, but they hadn't noticed the pair in the darkness. They hated light and had ripped apart the floating candles in the Great Hall. There were at least a few dozen of them there, and about seven in front of Harry, guarding the entrance to the Great Hall.

Harry knew if he fought them head on he would attract attention, which was the last thing he wanted to do, but the quickest way to Dumbledore's office was through the great hall.

He sighed, and looked at the centuar. "What I am asking of you is unforgivable, but I need your help."

"Ask, and I, Bane, shall do as you command," the centuar said.

"Thank you. I need you to distract the inferi so I can sneak past them."

The centaur swallowed and narrowed his eyes. "As you wish, Chosen One." Then he charged into the inferi in front of them. Harry cast an illusion charm on himself, feeling a cold wave run across his skin and he started to run past the charging inferi. He weaved his way through the bodies, the rotting corpses with hollow eyes.

His plan worked perfectly, by sacrificing the centaur he was given free way to run past the great hall while the inferi were distracted. He looked back, and saw the centuar fighting his last battle, his death fight.

Harry bowed his head, and ran, as hard as he could, meeting nobody on the passageways to Dumbledore's office. He said the password, "Excaliber," and watched the gargoyles open with anxiety flooding into him. It was the first time he had set foot in Dumbledore's office after his death.

The staircase led upward to the office but for a moment he was frozen, unable to enter as Dumbledore's face crawled into his mind from the depths of his being. It brought tears to his eyes as he relived the scene where he watched his mentor die.

But he pushed that aside and strided upward but with each step he felt slower, more muddle headed as Dumbledore's voice came unbidden in his mind, the voices from memory.

He opened the door and looked inside at the office, the bare empty office with only a desk in the middle. Everything else was gone. Dumbledore's wand lay in the center with a note attached to it.

"I know you'll be needing this. Dumbledore told me so in his pensieve. Minerva."

Harry grabbed the wand and felt a lightning bolt of sheer power run across his spine as he felt himself become the master of the wand. The wand felt so good, so utterly delightful, that he could at that moment drop his own holly wand and not look back.

He sighed, and said, "Thank you, Albus." Then he left, leaving the empty office behind, the office that Dumbledore had been in all his life.

It felt like abandoning the old man all over again, but Harry clenched his eyes shut and forced those thoughts out of his mind. It wasn't his fault what he did, it wasn't his fault that Dumbledore died. Was it? If anyone knew the truth, they would immediately say it was indeed his fault. He had left Dumbledore to die and escaped, left him to the inferi.

But it was a burden he would have to carry alone.

As he climbed down the stairs, he wondered if he would ever be able to beat Voldemort, if he would be able to fulfill the prophecy.

But the time for wondering was not now, and he focused his will into the sharpness of a knife, and walked into the face of his doom with eyes of icy green.


End file.
